Lying awake, bleeding inside, tears trace across my temple.
When I was on my way up here, I was warned about this:
"Your boss has ulcers. Watch out, or he'll give them to you, too.
How did I get this way? What did I ever do to him?
I failed to cultivate grace; instead, I believed in works.
Big guys can be bullies, but the small ones are dictators.
Throw your hat into the ring; throw your ring into a hat
I spit up blood the other morning; then I knew my fate.
The constant taste of blood can hardly whet one's appetite.
I guess I lack the lust for blood successfulness requires.
I can look all in the eye unlike backbiting lackeys.
A little travelling music maestro; I'm on my way home.